The Blond Factor
by Darkrealmist v.2
Summary: While on a trip to New York, Takaishi Takeru punishes his boyfriend for badmouthing him by flirting with their American guide, Michael Barton. Motomiya Daisuke believes he has the most astounding comeback, but it backfires epically. [Post-Digimon Adventure 02, pre-Digimon Adventure tri. Established Daisuke x Takeru]


The Blond Factor

Author's Note: Set after _Digimon Adventure 02_ and prior to _Digimon Adventure tri._ Shout-out to the Boulevard Kitchen & Oyster Bar, where I was when finishing this. Enjoy the story and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Digimon series.

Pairing: Established Daisuke x Takeru.

Summary:

While on a trip to New York, Takaishi Takeru punishes his boyfriend for badmouthing him by flirting with their American guide, Michael Barton. Motomiya Daisuke believes he has the most astounding comeback, but it backfires epically.

* * *

"So, how long have you and Takeru been an item?"

Motomiya Daisuke noodled the question in a manner Michael Barton thought reminiscent of a game show contestant, throwing out his million-dollar answer to the sound of an invisible buzzer. "Give or take four months."

"Give or take? That's cruel, Daisuke-kun!"

Daisuke pulled the subject of their discussion into his lap, so his boyfriend was awkwardly angled sideways across his seat, while still facing forward opposite Michael. Takaishi Takeru had to anchor a leg beneath the intervening chair (praise Goddramon, bolted to the floor) to prevent the coffees he returned with from spilling.

"We do spend practically every waking moment together. You can't fault me for losing track."

"Ouch. Thrilled you value me as much as the clothes off your back!"

"These old hand-me-downs from Jun? Nah, you're more valuable to me than them. Second only to soccer, Takeru."

"Jerk."

"As you can see, Michael, Takeru is clingy," Daisuke began.

"I am not!"

"He just can't get enough of me."

His jibber-jabber landed him in a headlock. It occurred to Takeru that he could wring Daisuke's neck with his goggles to silence him, but chancing it would probably cost him the talkative yet hunky athlete. Therefore, he chose the high road, and tempered his violence.

"He also snores like a Monochromon in his sleep and –!"

They whaled on each other, a smoke ball out of a cartoon.

The American Chosen Child cracked up at their dysfunctional partnership. He had no indication when he agreed to chaperone Daisuke and Takeru during their visit to New York that the fresh development Mimi teased would be such a knee-slapper. For a spectacle this entertaining, he'd normally have to shell out fifty bucks on Broadway.

Realizing he better step in before paramedics were called to extract the Japanese tourists on stretchers, Michael butted in, asking, "How did it go at the counter?"

"Oh! I picked up the lingo I needed to place our order. Fairly sure I confused the cashier. It must be the hair." Takeru directed his eyebrows toward his dirty gold locks whilst administering a noogie to a struggling Daisuke. "She assumed I'm from around here."

Being blond himself, his curly hair a bleached shade of flax, Michael could relate to Takeru's scrape, though his problems concerned people's presumptions surrounding his intelligence and lifestyle, rather than his ancestry.

"I feel ya, man."

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Never mind yours! Be careful with mine! Do you have any idea how many bottles of product I went through to make it look so good?"

"Take back what you said and I'll set you free, Daisuke-kun!" He dug his knuckles in.

"Lay off, Takeru! You've proven nothing! Michael's staring at us wondering why you can't stop being handsy with me!"

An astute observation for once.

"Accept it. You. Are. Clingy."

Time to crank it up a notch.

Takeru affected a nefarious sneer that would make Devimon shake in his boots. "Not on your life! To be frank, maybe I've been going about this all wrong. Maybe _Michael_ is the one I should be dating. He's handsome. A gentleman. The son of a Hollywood movie star…"

"Aw, shucks. Who, me?" Michael played along, a natural actor like his father. "You're pretty fine yourself, Takeru."

"Hey, woah! Wait a minute! Where are you guys headed with this?"

Takeru released Daisuke and interlaced his and Michael's fingers in the center of the table. Against stereotype, the Yankee had no qualms cozying up to another boy. Or if he did, he certainly hid his emotions masterfully. His commitment to the role was commendable.

"Daisuke, we here in the US have a saying: 'Blonds have more fun.'"

"Meaning?"

"It's a scientific certitude that we blonds attract greater attention. Girls love me! I'm basically Prince Charming!" Michael tooted his own horn. He didn't believe a word of it, of course, and wouldn't dare speak the balderdash aloud outside dramatic monologue, since he was truthfully a modest individual. It was the same reason he didn't go around bragging about his famous A-lister parentage; the scrutiny from his dad's diehard fans caused the blood to rise in his cheeks, and he abhorred the paparazzi.

To get under Daisuke's skin, Takeru mustered his best Miyako impression and feigned a swoon. "Michael, you're so cool!"

"Yeah? Well, I've heard a saying too! 'Two's company, three's a crowd!'" Daisuke lambasted. He possessively caged his angel in his arms, oblivious to the fact that he was playing straight into the pair's clutches, despite confining Takeru in his grasp.

"I guess we've established who the real clingy one is in this relationship!" Takeru triumphantly pumped his fist.

Michael followed by high-fiving Takeru over top Daisuke's binding limbs. Clearly, Daisuke lacked the dedication to keep Takeru contained.

"Very funny! You know what? Why don't I phone Wallace and invite him to our reunion? I bet he'd be interested! Then, we'll see how much _you_ like it!"

"Why thank you, Daisuke-kun. _Two_ gorgeous dreamboats for me! You shouldn't have!" Takeru gibed in mock sophistication, not missing a beat.

Laughing harder, Michael almost upchucked espresso and whipped cream through his nose.

Daisuke finally relented. The blue-eyed rowdies were ganging up on him, and had the numbers advantage.

"All right, all right! I take back what I said, you zits!"

Satisfied, Takeru smooched his little buffalo's chin and stroked his maroon frizz, reminding him their taunts and roughhousing were merely tossed in jest.

Blonds of a feather flock together, but Daisuke was forever.


End file.
